Monday, 10 October 2016

What day is it today?A comforting, but crippling, slump into the sofaA day when the crumbs scratch against the back the pots and pans solidify on the side I'll do it tomorrow - the most productive line in my bookPour some wine Lay backWake from that dream where everything's cleanto the hiss of your boy, he stinks of weedWhy does he never talk to me? The question you answer most days of the week but find it too hard to speakAloud£40 out of the purseStill so proud, so proudThe devil on your shoulder holds you accountable for everything you gave your life to avoidSo you second guess yourselfDid I do this to my boy?It was nice outside today but I still managed to talk myself out of every spontaneous plan I madethe rays were warm but I'll pull blanket over anywayImmobile from the icy grip of depression

But today's another dayDo I look OK?You look great The lipstick, the coat, the smile on your faceI ask how she could ever feel that way? But it's a feeling you wouldn't wish upon your worst enemyShe doesn't ask for sympathyjust a hand on the shoulder, a message in the inbox, a phone call at night, a complimentSomething that makes her feel of worthIn a world where selfishness intoxicatesshe lives her life through youThe night she spends alone with her thoughtsthe good ones are saved for youBank notes and fast cars fill your dreamsOh for those what you would doWhile in the next room she hopes for another dayWhen her son will say 'I love you'